So, it’s been a week exactly since I was tottering around on black patent heels in a crowded trans-nightclub, in equal parts stunned and terrified. And I’ve been thinking a lot about Sarah, life, the universe, you know, all the trivial things.
Normally at this point I’d flutter my eyelashes, sigh, and say it is all over. Again. Part of the stereotypical, guilt-driven enjoy-purge cycle that so many of us seem to fall foul of.
I’m a lot of things. A cynic, a princess, a housewife, a mid-age-crisiser, you get the picture. But if I’ve learnt anything in the last five months, which is the short period that Sarah has been out of hibernation, it’s that we’re not binary creatures.
I’ve spent my life turning her off every so often, spending years at a time without indulging, because indulging is what it is. And those years were wasted.
Things have changed. Then Sarah was a secret, something that was mine alone and sometimes a guilt-ridden secret, sometimes a beautiful inner-child untainted by the years and cynicism. Now she isn’t. There are at least six people, all of whom I trust, who know both of me. And that does change things.
And I’m not binary – I can’t be just drab-me, and I can’t be just-Sarah.
So, a week of soul-searching and not a small amount of stress, and I’ve made a decision. I said I was a lot of things, and drama-queen is *not* one of them, so it’s not the standard ‘it’s all over, I’m purging all traces of her and pretending she never existed’. But it’s also a situation that I can’t continue doing the way I do it.
So I’m going to change. Because I know what the problem is.
It’s me. I plan *too* much. All my Sarah time is prepared months in advance, I agonise over all the logistics (which is probably very evident from the previous blog posts). And this obsession with details has started to take the fun out of it.
So I’m going to be impulsive. No planning in advance, when (and if, because I’m keeping all my options open) the urge to let Sarah out comes along I’m going to phone the wonderful person who does the makeover and photos and ask her when the next available session is. And I’m going to book it, and go for it.
No desperate sobbing, no falling to my knees and wailing at the sky. I’m giving Sarah a blank inner-cheque which she can cash whenever she wants. I’ve got half a cupboard full of outfits that I’ve bought in advance of sessions, lots of housewife frocks, office-wear and the like. Whenever she fancies some out time, she can have it. She just needs to ask.
I’m still going to post to the blog, because it’s a wonderful outlet. I am simply choosing not to be a reactionary binary midlife-crisis ridden idiot, and giving her the reins.
So stay beautiful, you wonderful people. Be true to yourselves and life becomes a lot simpler.